


Leaving Marks

by JustAWinchesterGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dom!Sam, F/M, Knife Play, Multi, NO wincest but it is borderline at some points, Orgasm Denial, Rape, Sharing, Spanking, Threesome, Toys, Violence, Whipping, blood play- kind of, don't read or just skip it, established relationship with Dean, forced orgams, idk what else to tag, it's very rough if you aren't into it please don't read it, lots of angst too, oh boy here we go okay, ok enjoy., sex as a coping mechanism, sort of third party/observer Dean, sub!Reader, the rape is NOT the boys it's a shifter, the torture/rape is in chap one so like if that'll be triggering for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWinchesterGirl/pseuds/JustAWinchesterGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a shifter takes Dean's form, you don't handle it as well as you thought you could and end up getting captured. The shifter takes things you've always fantasized about and uses them against you. Now you want them back, but Dean just can't do it... but he knows that Sam can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scream for Me

“You’re not going in there alone, Y/N, and that’s final!” Dean yells at you, green eyes narrowed at you in anger, fists clenched tight as he stares you down across the tiny motel room.

“Well, do you have a better plan?” you scream at him, stomping your feet like a child throwing a temper tantrum- which is exactly how Dean is treating you.

“Anything! Anything is better than that!” the green eyed hunter roars.

“Dean, we found where the shifter likes to hide, and I’m the only one who can fit through the tunnel! Unless you’ve got a way to lure it out into the daylight- and a good lie to explain to the cops why the dead guy has the same face as you- this is the best plan we’ve got!” you explain in frustration for about the twentieth time.

He looks at you in anger, mouth hanging open a bit while he searches for another rebuttal before he gives up and rounds on his brother, who’s watching your heated debate from his seat on the edge of his motel bed, “Say something, Sam!” he urges, “Tell her she’s nuts!”

Sam shrugs and looks back at his brother sheepishly, “She’s kind of right, Dean.”

“Hah!” you gloat childishly.

Dean looks betrayed, “You’re both nuts! You can’t go in there without backup, Y/N!”

“Why?” you ask angrily, “I’m fully loaded, I’ve got my silver knife, and I’m _just_ as good a hunter as either of you! I’m sick of you treating me like a child, Dean!”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” he yells.

“But when it’s you, it doesn’t matter?” you huff.

“No!” he says, “When it’s me, that’s my own damn fault! When it’s you…” his expression softens and he looks at you with eyes full of terror and whispers, “Y/N, I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to you.”

You sigh and move closer to him, grabbing his hand and rubbing your thumb soothingly in circles over the back of his hand, “Dean,” you whisper, “Not everything is on you. This is _my_ decision. And I won’t get hurt, but if I do, that’s on **me** , not you.”

“I love you,” he chokes out, too lost to care that his brother is still sitting there- even though he’s only said these words out loud to you a small handful of times, and only in private, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips as Sam looks away uncomfortably, “You won’t lose me, Dean. I know what I’m doing,” you rest one hand on his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes, and you grin, “Now, I’m going to go in there and kill that shifter son-of-a-bitch who had the audacity to take your face, then I’m gonna come back and we’re all gonna go out for beer and burgers. Okay?”

He lets out a sigh of defeat and nods, “Okay.”

* * *

 

You really should have just listened to Dean. You had such a thirst to prove yourself- to show him that you could be just as great a hunter as he was- just as important.

Once you’d squeezed through the small tunnel to the collapsed mine where the shifter had taken refuge, seeing him had taken you completely off guard. You’d dealt with shifters before, but none of them had slipped into the one skin you couldn’t bear to hurt.

“It’s not Dean,” you’d told yourself when the monster smirked at you with those perfect lips and green eyes, and you’d pulled the trigger.

The first silver bullet made contact- but it only grazed his shoulder, earning you a grunt of pain in your boyfriend’s voice, but the shifter was still very much alive. The shifter was fast, and stronger than a human being, and the second bullet didn’t hit him at all as he darted out of your sight and came up behind you, over powering you and wrenching the gun from your hand.

He’s got a vice-like grip on one of your wrists, the other hand holding your hip so you can’t move away from him. Quickly, you pull out your knife with your free hand and drive it into his stomach, but he twists away at the last moment and it sinks into his side above his hip instead, enough to do some damage but definitely not enough to kill him. He hisses in pain and throws you roughly to the hard ground, pulling the knife from his side.

“You bitch!” he growls, then laughs, clutching at his bleeding side with one hand as he walks over to you, “You really thought it would be that easy?”

“Go to Hell!” you spit, struggling to get to your feet- bruises forming along your legs and one hip where you’d landed.

He lifts one foot and kicks you back down to the ground roughly, “Already there, sweetheart,” he says angrily, “Girls like you put me there. You made my life torture!”

You laugh, “You think this is Hell? Dean has _been_ to Hell! Can you find that in all of those memories you stole from him when you donned his skin like a winter coat? Your life ain’t torture. Why don’t you take a peek and see what **real** torture is like?”

He snarls and grabs you roughly by the hair, yanking you up, “I’ll show you what real torture is like!” He grunts and smashes your head against the rock face that makes up the wall and the last thing you see is Dean’s eyes smirking down at you as the world goes black.

* * *

 

“Where the hell is she? This is taking too long!” Dean growls angrily from the front seat of the Impala, staring out the window at the entrance to the tunnel, fingers twitching anxiously toward his gun, “She should’ve been out by now! Get in, shoot, get out, that’s what she said!”

“Calm down, Dean, I’m sure she’s doing just fine. She’s a good hunter,” Sam reassures him.

“I know she’s a good hunter, but that bastard’s wearing my skin and I know everything about her, Sam!” he says worriedly, “This was a bad idea.”

“Just give her a few more minutes, she can handle this,” Sam says.

Dean sighs and sits for a minute, leg bouncing impatiently, “Nope, fuck that,” he says quickly, opening the door and getting out of the car, gun in hand, “I’m going in.”

Sam follows, sighing, “How, Dean? The tunnel collapsed, we’re too big to get through!”

“The shifter got in- didn’t he? He’s wearing my body; he’s the same size as me!” Dean shouts, “There’s gotta be another way in! Help me find it!”

* * *

 

When you wake, you’re chained up, suspended from the ceiling of the mine. Chains dig uncomfortably into your wrists and ankles, and hot blood drips down your feet to your toes. Your naked body is battered, and bruised, and scratched up pretty badly. You struggle to lift your head, the bump on it from the impact against the rock making it feel 100 times heavier than normal.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” you hear the shifter chuckle in Dean’s voice, “Don’t worry, I didn’t start without you.”

“Dean,” you groan, trying to blink away the last of the darkness of unconsciousness at the edges of your vision.

“That wasn’t much of an effort,” the shifter says, appearing in front of you, “Are you sure you _want_ to be saved?”

You take a deep breath, glaring daggers at the shifter, “Dean!” you scream louder, chest clenching with the effort and you jostle the chains a little, swinging gently back and forth.

“Better,” the shifter says, pulling a knife out of his pocket, “But pointless. No one can hear you down here. That’s why I picked it, you see… this is where I brought all of those other girls. The ones you failed to save.”

“Shut up!” you scream at him, “Dean will find me! And when he does he’s gonna kill you- and I’m gonna watch!”

The shifter wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and raised his eyebrows, smirking the way Dean does, “Kinky,” he comments, coming closer to you and gently running the flat of the blade across your thigh, “But I don’t think that’s gonna happen, Y/N.”

You gasp and moan in pain when he turns the knife and cuts a long gash across your thigh, from the hip bone to the knee cap. He smiles at your noises of pain and drives the tip of the blade hard into the soft spot at the back of your knee. You scream and shake and the chains rattle loudly against the rock, causing some to fall.

“Stay still, Y/N,” the shifter whispers too close to your face for comfort, “If you thrash around too much you’ll bring this whole place down.”

“Dean!” you scream, “Help me! Dean! Sam!”

The shifter frowns, “That’s enough noise from you,” he growls, shoving a cloth gag into your mouth and tying it tightly behind your head. While he’s behind you, he trails the tip of the knife over your shoulder blade, down your back, and over one ass cheek, only cutting your flesh shallowly, enjoying the small swell of blood jumping to the surface and painting your skin.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes in your ear, “I’ve got so many memories of you up here. You two go at it like rabbits, don’t you?”

You growl angrily behind the gag and shake the chains a little in protest.

“Such a pretty view this is. Too bad the _real_ Dean doesn’t get to see you like this. This is better than any of the vanilla stuff he’s got tucked away in his spank bank,” the shifter laughs, “but then… he’s got all these _feelings_ for you, too.”

Your scream is muffled by the gag and if there was any chance your boys could actually hear you before it was definitely gone now. He smacks your ass hard with the flat of the blade, and though it’s thin, it stings quite a bit and the shifter lets out a small moan of satisfaction and caresses the mark he’s left behind with one hand. His touch disappears and you shake in terror and anticipation of what he might do next.

“Let’s step it up a notch, shall we, Y/N?” he purrs, voice low and rough with lust. He steps into your view and your eyes widen in fear as you see the thick, long leather strap in his hands.

“No, please no!” you try to cry, but the gag muffles your words. You shake, tugging at the chains that hold your wrists and struggling to escape. The noise echoes around the space as the chains clang against the rock, sending a few more tumbling down around you.

“You’re going to trap us in here forever, Y/N,” the shifter says, “Which, honestly is okay with me, but the more you move the less chance you have of ever getting out of here.”

You scream again beneath the gag as he runs the leather softly over the skin of your back, ass, and thighs.

“This is going to leave such pretty marks,” he murmurs, before striking you hard on the ass with it. You scream and shake as he whips you again and again, relentlessly getting harder and harder, leaving long red gashes and dark purple bruises on your back, ass, and thighs. You can feel the blood drip down your thighs, and before long it’s mixed with something else as well.

“Hold on,” the shifter stops, laughing Dean’s laugh and returning in front you to look in your eyes as he trails one finger through the juices gathering on your thighs, “Are you actually **enjoying** this?” He throws his head back and laughs hard, a sight you so rarely get to see on Dean and it makes your stomach churn that this is how you have to see it. “Dean doesn’t know this about you, does he, Y/N?” he asks, “I’ve got no kinky, bdsm memories up here. What- you think it’d freak him out? That you want him to tie you up and do all sorts of filthy, degrading, painful, _pleasurable_ things to you, Y/N? Well, I’m happy to indulge in your little fantasy.”

You involuntarily moan through the gag as he runs one finger up your slit, flicking momentarily against your clit, before popping it in his mouth, Dean’s lips wrapped around Dean’s finger, and it’s Dean’s eyes that wink at you and Dean’s lips that smirk, and Dean’s voice that says, “Now be a good little girl, Y/N, and scream for me.”

* * *

 

“Dean! Help me! Dean! Sam!” They hear the screams as they struggle to move the fallen stones from the entrance that block their way into the mine. There are loud clanging noises, and more rocks fall, causing them to have to start their dig over.

“Fuck! Y/N!” Dean shouts, tearing at the stones and throwing them behind him haphazardly as he desperately tries to get to you.

Sam is digging just as frantically, but every time the walls shake, it sends more stones tumbling down- blocking the way in for the boys.

“She’ll be fine, you said!” Dean grunts as he sends another handful of stones flying behind him, “Does she sound fucking fine to you, Sam?”

“Okay, I was wrong! Stop talking, keep digging!” Sam says angrily.

“I should’ve never let her go in on her own! In and out, she says! When we save her- I’m gonna fucking kill her for talking me into this!”

* * *

 

You come shaking, for the third time, tears streaming down your face as the shifter tortures you, forcing you to involuntarily orgasm again and again as he fingers you, smacking your thighs hard with a thin, sharp stick that leaves long red welts on your skin.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” you moan under the gag, but the shifter only laughs, and continues his relentless assault on your incredibly oversensitive clit. “But I’m enjoying myself so much, Y/N, aren’t you?” he says, “Isn’t this your greatest fantasy? You’re completely at my mercy. I can do whatever I want with you. What could be better than this?”

He steps out of sight, and for a moment you know relief. You don’t hear his grunts of pain as he shifts, you’re too busy trying to breathe. Suddenly, he’s back in front of you, but he doesn’t look like Dean anymore, he looks like you.

“Is it ever dirty up here!” she says, tapping her temple and smirking at you with your own mouth. Suddenly, she giggles, smiling wickedly, “Oh, I have just the thing!” She’s gone again, and this time you do hear the grunts and the soft squish as your skin hits the floor and she dons another one.

When he steps in front of you again, he’s Sam, and he looks at you darkly, running his fingers slowly up the sides of your naked torso. You shudder under his touch.

“Is this what you want, Y/N?” he asks, “You want Dean’s brother to fuck you hard while he watches?” he chuckles, “Now _this_ , I understand not telling Dean.”

You moan, and cry, and try to scream again but even without the gag you don’t think anyone would hear you. You’re too spent, too exhausted.

His eyes rake appreciatively over your naked body, bruised and cut, covered in blood and come. “You make such a pretty picture, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear, pressing his now naked body- _Sam’s body_ \- against your back, his hard cock nuzzled against your ass, “Sam’s mind is even dirtier than yours, I think he’d love this, Y/N. He wants you just as bad.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you would die, wishing Sam and Dean would come to save you, wishing you could get free and kill this motherfucker who’d used both of your boys’ faces to torture you for the past few hours.

He smacks your raw, red ass hard with one big, warm hand and you squeal in pain, shaking again. “Is this what you want?” he repeats, trailing his lips over your bloody skin, “You want Sam’s cock? Maybe Dean _will_ find a way here. Maybe he’ll bust in, and find me wearing his brother’s skin, buried balls deep in your sweet, wet pussy, and you- moaning and begging for it like a little whore.”

You moan and he shoves his cock up into you, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucks you roughly.

You close your eyes and try to pretend you’re somewhere- anywhere else. Every hard thrust shakes the chains again, and you cry, knowing he’s sealing you in- and the boys out. His fingers claw and rake at your thighs, drawing more blood, “Scream for me, Y/N,” he yells at you, “Don’t just take it, scream for me!”

You clench your jaw, teeth grinding together as you try to hold in your screams and moans of pain- not wanting to give him anymore satisfaction.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he groans as he fucks into you erratically, desperately, “Scream! What good is it if you don’t scream!”

**“Hey, asshole!”**

The shifter freezes and turns his head to look at the interruption, immediately getting shot six times directly in the forehead. He drops, and his cock slides out of you and you shriek at the relief.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts, coming over to pull the gag out of your mouth, his hands holding your face as he looks worriedly into your eyes to see if you’re okay, pressing soft kisses to your face. Sam starts to unchain you, and when the shackles are off your raw wrists and feet, you fall into Dean’s arms, too weak to even cling to him.

“Y/N, talk to me. Are you okay? Say something!” he says desperately.

_‘I’m okay,’_ you try to say, but your mouth is dry, your throat is raw, and your lungs are burning and nothing comes out.

“Fuck, Sam, the blood is coming from everywhere! We need to get her to the hospital!” he’s shaking and you think you can feel tears hit your face.

“And say what, Dean? She’s just been tortured- you were the suspect, and now the body looks like me!” Sam tries to reason.

“I don’t fucking care, Sam! Look at her!” He shouts.

_‘I don’t need a hospital,’_ you wanna say, _‘Just take me home.’_

“Let’s go home and call Cas, he can come and heal her- better than any doctor could,” Sam tells him.

He carries you out of the mine, and lays you gently in the backseat of the car. You’re a couple hundred miles from home, and you know you’ll be fine, but you can’t seem to articulate that and Dean certainly doesn’t think so. He speeds the whole way home and doesn’t stop for anything.

“Dean,” you manage to croak when you’re halfway there. His eyes snap up to look at you in the mirror and he breathes a shaky sigh of relief. Sam turns in his seat to look at you with concern.

“Y/N! Thank god, are you okay?” Dean asks.

“Well…” you start, trying to sit up.

“No, I know you’re not okay. Don’t sit. We’re gonna get you home, babe. Cas is gonna heal you up, it’ll be just fine.” You think the reassurance is more for his sake than yours. Dean looks back at the road, pressing the gas down a little harder. Sam is staring at you, confusion in his eyes and he swallows dryly.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” he says to you quietly, “Why’d the shifter turn into me?”

You shrug, not meeting his eyes, “Got bored of torturing me with Dean, I guess. Had to cycle through everyone I care about.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

You shiver and moan in pain when several of your wounds brush uncomfortably against the seat.

“Almost home, baby,” Dean says.

You lean your hurt head against the cool window pane and close your eyes for the remainder of the ride.


	2. I'm Not Enough for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean would do anything for you, give you anything under the sun, and when he realizes he can't give you what you need, he enlists the help of Sam to make sure you have everything.

When you wake up, you’re tucked into bed, several blankets on you, and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table. Dean’s asleep in a chair beside the bed, head lolled back to rest against his shoulder- mouth hanging open. There’s a bottle of whiskey hanging from his fingers, and his eyes are red and puffy like he’s been crying.

You slip quietly out of bed so you don’t wake him, going to look at your naked body in the mirror. You’re glad to find not a single mark on your body to remind you of the torture. You let out a shuddering breath, running your fingers gently over your skin where the welts had been.

Kinky- you were into. BDSM- you were into. But that had been torture. That had been rape. That had been terrifying. You wished you could scrub it clean from your mind the way it’d been cleaned off your skin.

Were it actually Dean that’d left those marks on your skin it would’ve been different. It would’ve been gentler. It would’ve been controlled. He would’ve kissed soft trails over them after and murmured apologies and sweet nothings in your ear and you would’ve reveled in having the marks on your skin that said you belonged to him. Like a signature on your body.

It wasn’t that you were _afraid_ to tell Dean this fantasy- you just knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt you, would never hurt you, especially after this. You didn’t want to tell him and make him feel like there was something he couldn’t give you. Like he wasn’t enough for you.

The thing with Sam was a fantasy you’d had long before you and Dean were actually together. The brothers were hot, and it’d been something you’d thought about now and again in bed or in the shower when you sought out release. Being fucked by Sam while Dean watched. Being fucked by Dean while Sam watched. Being fucked by them both. A fantasy. Nothing more. Nothing you’d ever imagined could actually happen and nothing you wanted now that you were with Dean.

_“He wants you just as bad,”_ the shifter had said, though. He was lying, you were sure, to rile you up, Sam could never do that to his brother.

“Y/N?” Dean croaks as he opens his eyes to find you out of bed.

“Dean,” you sigh as he comes up behind you and you turn, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in his chest. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close.

“I should’ve never let you go in there alone,” he says gruffly, pressing his lips to your hair.

“It was my fault, Dean, I thought I could handle it,” you say, “I guess I’m just not as good as you yet.”

He shakes his head and lets out an incredulous breath, tilting your head up to look at him as he says, “Y/N, you are an incredible hunter. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Baby, I think you’re amazing. There are so many cases where we would’ve been dead meat without you. You are smart, and brave, and fast, a hell of a shot, and so… _so_ strong, Y/N. This wasn’t your fault. This could’ve happened to anyone. The only one whose fault it is, is that sick son of a bitch shifter who I unloaded six bullets into. He’ll have a hell of a time in Purgatory, the sadistic motherfucker.”

“So you’re not mad at me for not listening to you?” you ask.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m furious!” he laughs, “But I’m too fucking relieved that you’re **alive** to be angry.”

You reach up to kiss him softly, sighing against his lips. “I could’ve killed him… if he wasn’t wearing your face, I could’ve killed him. I should’ve known that would stop me. I thought I could do it, Dean, I’m sorry,” you cry, swiping angrily at your tears.

“Ssh, Y/N, no. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that fucker ever put his hands on you,” he whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses to your face, “Wearing my damn face. And Sam’s. We’ll give you space if you need it, baby, as much space as you need to get over this.”

“No!” you cry, holding him close to you and pulling him toward the bed shakily, “No… I- I need you here with me, Dean. I need you,” you kiss him hungrily, pulling him onto the bed on top of you.

He crawls over you hesitantly, kissing you back too softly. “Baby, I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers, “I don’t want to push you too fast.”

You shake your head, “I need you to fuck me, Dean.”

“What?” his eyes widen in surprise, “After that? I thought you’d never want me to touch you again.”

“It wasn’t you. And it wasn’t Sam. It was a monster. Shifter or not, he was an absolute monster. And I need… I need you to get rid of the memory of him inside of me. Dean… please, I need you right now. I need this,” you beg.

He’s still hesitant, but he pulls off his shirt and leans back over you to kiss you gently. Your hands rake through his hair, holding his face to yours as you kiss, loving, and gentle, and passionate. You move your hands down his back, feeling over his skin, feeling his back muscles move as he shifts over you to a more comfortable position. You run them down to his waist before sliding them around his hips to his stomach, back up his chest and shoulders, feeling him close to you, taking stock of his body, verifying him to your senses as Dean. The real Dean. _Your_ Dean.

He kisses his way softly down your throat and over your torso, hands running gently over your thighs. “Can I?” he asks, and you nod, before he pushes his fingers slowly inside of you, his thumb gently circling your clit. He kisses the soft flesh of your inner thighs as he finger fucks you, soft and slow, just barely brushing against your g-spot with the tip of his finger and driving you crazy with need.

“Dean,” you moan, shoving your hips down against his fingers.

His other hand rubs soft, soothing circles on your thigh as he leans back up to kiss you and whisper, “That’s it, baby, just take it. Take whatever you need.”

You moan again and shudder under his touch, rocking your hips frantically into his hand. He picks up the pace with his thumb as you slam yourself down onto his fingers- now three of them buried inside of you- and kisses and nips at your neck as you ride his hand.

“Dean,” you whimper, “Dean!”

“That’s it, baby, come for me,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing it softly.

You moan and shudder at your release, clenching around his fingers as his hand continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

You pant, turning sideways and kissing him, throwing one leg over his hip once his fingers have retreated.

“Is that what you needed, baby?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

“I need you to take off your pants,” you growl desperately, tugging at the zipper of his jeans.

He complies, and you roll him over onto his back, straddling him and wasting no time in sliding down onto his cock.

“God, yes!” you moan when he’s fully inside of you.

“Y/N-” he breathes, holding your hips still as you start to ride him furiously.

You frown at him, “What?”

“Just… hold on, one second,” he grunts, “Are you sure this is what you-”

“Dean, if you don’t fuck me as hard as you possibly can right this second, I am going to leave you here and do it myself,” you threaten.

“Well, alright then,” he growls, grinning and tightening his grip on your hips as the hold becomes less for restraint and more for leverage as he pounds into you hard and fast from below, lifting your legs off the mattress several times from the force. You lean forward over him and your hands grip the headboard for balance as you bounce over him, moaning and screaming as he pounds into you.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he grunts, burying his face between your breasts to kiss and nip as he rocks into you.

“Dean! Dean! Dean! Dean!” you cry as you come again, clenching around him.

He moans out his own release shortly after, triggered by yours. You sigh and slump down against him, pressing kisses to his chest where your face rests.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

He laughs, “Not a problem, baby.”

You crawl off him and lay against his side. He takes your hand in his and kisses your fingertips softly.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again, Y/N,” he says.

You tense up, “Dean… you can’t protect me from everything. You have to trust in my ability as a hunter sometimes.”

“I do trust you, Y/N, I know what you can do. It’s the damn monsters I don’t trust. Y/N, if I had gone in there with you-”

“It’s in the past, Dean,” you snap, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Okay?”

He sighs, “Okay,” he concedes.

You drift off against his side and dream of Sam leaving marks on your skin.

* * *

 

You’re up before Dean the next morning, as you usually are. You yawn and pad blearily into the kitchen, sighing in relief when you see a fresh pot of coffee already made.

“Good morning,” Sam greets, coming into the room to find you halfway through a cup of coffee, shaking droplets of water out of his hair from his shower, “How are you feeling this morning?” he asks hesitantly.

You shrug and try to give him a convincing smile, “I’m okay, Sam.”

“Yeah, right,” he mutters, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, you don’t have to put on a brave face for us. No one would be okay after that. We don’t expect you to be.”

“No, really, Sam, I’m fine,” you say in irritation, shrugging his hand off of you, “I’m… handling it.”

“Okay…” he concedes, “But if you ever need to talk-”

“I don’t want to **talk** about it, Sam!” you snap a little more ferociously than you’d intended to.

He chuckles humourlessly and shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “You two are exactly alike.”

You raise one eyebrow at him angrily, “Yeah, well that’s probably why you like me so much.”

He shrugs, “Probably,” and smiles a little at you before softening again, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I should’ve known you wouldn’t want to talk to me… after what that shifter did to you in my skin.”

“I… I liked it, Sam,” you admit in a whisper, not meeting his gaze, “Well, no, I mean- it was terrifying. It was horrible. But… I kept thinking if it were actually Dean… if it were actually you…”

“Y/N…” he breathes, his eyes darkening as he warns you to stop.

“The shifter said you wanted me, Sam. That… that you would’ve enjoyed it just as much as he did. Was he telling me the truth?” you ask him, still not looking up.

“I would never hurt you, Y/N,” Sam says softly, “I-”

“No… not like that,” you nod, “I know. He was sick… sadistic… but, have you ever thought about it? Having that kind of control? Leaving marks?” you voice is just barely a whisper and he’s leaned in close to you to hear.

“Y/N, why are you asking me this? You’re with Dean,” he mutters.

You nod and force yourself to meet his eyes, “I am. I love Dean. I’m just curious. I want to know if what the shifter said was true. Do you want me, Sam? Would you enjoy leaving marks? Making me scream?”

He groans under his breath, “Fuck, Y/N.”

“Dean could never do it. He could never hurt me, never dominate me that way. Having that kind of power over me… even though it’s not real torture, I think it reminds him of Hell. I think he’s scared of what he could do to me. I’ve never asked him to… I know he wouldn’t. I don’t want to hurt him,” you tell him, unsure as to why you’re confiding this to him, “But I want it, Sam. I want it bad. I want it for real, from someone I love, not a sadistic monster who’s gonna kill me.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me to do, Y/N,” Sam says, voice strained.

“I’m not asking you for anything,” you clarify, “I just… needed to tell someone. And I can’t tell Dean. I can’t tell him why that shifter turned into you, Sam. I can’t tell him what I want.”

“I can’t give you what you want, Y/N,” Sam whispers, “I can’t go behind Dean’s back like that. I can’t do that to my brother.”

“I know. I don’t want you to. I never expected to get anything out of this… I just wanted you to know. I just wanted to know if he was lying,” you sigh, “I’m sorry, Sam, I shouldn’t have told you all of this.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he says thickly, swallowing the lump in his dry throat before sighing, “but I’m glad you did, I guess. At least I know you’re not scared of me now.”

You shake your head with a small smile, “I could never be scared of you, Sam. If anything… I’m fascinated.”

* * *

 

Dean stands outside the door to the kitchen, listening to your conversation with bated breath. It’s too quiet, but he can make out a little of it.

To him, the message is clear; He’s not satisfying you in the ways you need, and it seems Sam could be a better fit for your particular needs.

He’s torn between feeling hurt and betrayed that you’d go to Sam before even telling him, and wanting to give you everything under the sun. He would do anything for you. He’s not sure why you can’t see that. Hell, it takes one special kind of person to make Dean Winchester think past his own self-deprecation and tendency for martyrdom, and actually settle down and believe he is worthy of love. He’s only done it once before and that ended so badly he thought he’d never be in a relationship again. No attachments. But then, in waltzed you and his whole world view had gone flying right out the window.

Now he’d do anything, be anything you needed him to be. Maybe he couldn’t give you what you wanted… but if there was someone who could, who was he to deny you? Sometimes he thought you were the only reason he was still alive. He owed you. And god knows he owes his little brother, god knows he’d do anything for him, god knows he trusts him with his life.

He didn’t _like_ the idea. Hell, it kind of made him feel a little sick, thinking of someone else touching you… someone hurting you. But if it was what you needed, maybe he could do it. Maybe he could give you up, just for a night… just so you could be satisfied. Maybe… if it was Sam.

* * *

 

“Y/N” he calls you over to the table in the library where he and Sam had been doing research on a “maybe” case- you weren’t actually sure there was any supernatural activity involved and they wanted to be sure before taking off to investigate.

“What’d you find?” you ask, bringing them over a couple of beers and sitting in Dean’s lap to peer at the computer in front of him. His arm snakes around your waist instinctively in a move that’s both protective and so natural that you wouldn’t have even noticed it if you didn’t catch the way it draws Sam’s eyes and he frowns slightly, thinking of your earlier conversation.

“It looks like it could be ghost possession,” Sam explains, electing to ignore how his mouth’s just gone dry and pressing on, “There was a woman who committed suicide in the house about thirty years ago. I can’t really find any motivation she’d have to harm the family living there now, but people are dying so I guess we’d better go and see if it’s her. We’ll find out more when we interview the witnesses.”

“Good thinking, Sherlock,” you comment sarcastically, wondering why they were being so hesitant to go on a simple ghost hunt.

Sam shares a look with Dean over your shoulder for a moment, and Dean lets out a sigh, “Y/N… I want you to stay home.”

“What?” you ask incredulously, hopping off his knee to turn and look at them both with anger in your eyes, “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Y/N, after what happened-” Dean starts.

“I’m over it!” you interrupt.

“We aren’t!” Dean shouts, “Look, if you’re over it already, that’s great- I’m glad you’re freaking Superwoman- but have you stopped to think what almost losing you, what seeing you like that, did to us?”

“Dean, I was the one who was raped and tortured!” you point out angrily.

He winces at the words, “And you’re handling it in your own way, and I respect that, baby, I do. I know you wanna forget about it- fuck, drink, and work it away. Believe me, I understand. I’ve been on the rack, Y/N, and I’m still shoving those memories down every day. But for Sam and me… we’re still pretty shaken up about it, babe. I can’t… I won’t let you get hurt like that again.”

“Dean, this case-”

“I know, Y/N, it looks easy. It looks like nothing. But I ain’t willing to take that chance with you. Not right now. Not after that,” he says.

You sigh, knowing his heart is in the right place even if this is completely unnecessary, “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” you ask, “Dean, I want to **kill** something!”

He chuckles, “I know you do, baby. I promise, next one’s all yours, okay? Just give us this little break, alright? Just this once.”

“Okay,” you nod after a moment’s contemplation, “You two go. Kick some ass. Be the dynamic duo again. I’ll sit this one out.”

He sighs in relief and you can see all the tension leave his body as he relaxes, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“No problem,” you say nonchalantly, “I’ll just… go through Men of Letters junk, that can be interesting.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t interesting. It was boring. And it got old after about three seconds.

You hadn’t lived here long, only a few months, and you hadn’t gotten to explore the whole place yet- mostly you stuck to the main bunker; kitchen, living room, library, bathroom, Dean’s room, and you’d been in the shooting range a couple times as well, but that was it- so you decided to look in some of the other rooms the bunker had. There were a couple extra bedrooms, a weapon’s room, and a lot of storage spaces for files upon files of things that hadn’t made it to the library. You decided to try your luck looking through some of the files in one room, hoping there was something a little more interesting than what you’d found in the library.

While digging, one of the shelves shifted, swinging back a little as if it were on a hinge. Curious, you shove your shoulder into it, causing it to swing back some more and open like a door to a much larger room.

The floor is concrete, the walls are iron, and there’s a devil’s trap painted in the center of the room. You look around with bated breath at the chains and shackles that cling to the floor, walls, and ceiling. Your eyes widen at the demon-proof restraints, and weapons.

The bunker has a dungeon. Like an honest-to-god dungeon that can only be for torturing and holding demons and other monsters. It looks like something out of a medieval torture flick- or a really kinky porno.

You’re unsure whether to feel nothing but professionalism and practicality at the sight, slight fear, or turned on. Thinking about it rationally, it made sense for a place like this to have a dungeon; it was old, and it was used as a place to experiment with the supernatural. It was smart to have a place to keep the things that go bump in the night while they were observed, and experimented on, and tortured for information.

The sight of it also made goosebumps rise on your skin and your breath catch in your throat as it brought back the still too recent memories of metal digging into the skin of your wrists and leather striking your back. But also… it excited you. Here, right in your home, right under your very nose, was a place where all your dirty fantasies could come true. A place where you could be restrained, and touched, and marked up, and teased, and hurt, and fucked, all in a safe, controlled place that was familiar and made you feel safe and loved. Your boys had had the place and the means to give you what you needed all along, if only you’d had the courage to ask.

Now, it was too late. You knew Dean wouldn’t do it, and you could never ask him to let you try it with Sam. That would be beyond wrong. Beyond messed up. Wouldn’t it?

Dean was a fairly possessive guy; he’d gotten into bar fights on more than one occasion when guys had tried to hit on you, he even punched a guy’s lights out once for just looking at you funny. But with Sam, it had always been different. You’d never given Dean any reason to believe the relationship between you and Sam was anything more than friendly- because it really wasn’t. But for friends, you were close. Sometimes you snuggled up together to watch TV. He gave you kisses on the cheek and forehead sometimes. He’d even seen you naked a couple of times.

You used to have a huge crush on both of the Winchester boys, but ever since you’d gotten together with Dean, the feelings you harboured for Sam had fallen to the back burner in favour of his older brother. You were happy with the Winchester you had. Sometimes you thought Sam wanted you in a little more than friendly way, and now the shifter had confirmed that for you.

But Dean never got angry or even tense when Sam touched you in a way that seemed slightly more than friendly, or kissed your cheek, or made a flirty comment. Perhaps he just trusted his brother and was comfortable with your friendship being the way it was. Maybe he was perfectly happy to share your affections with his brother.

But to ask for something like **this**? No… that would be going too far. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t hurt Dean like that.

You pick up a pair of handcuffs that are sitting on a table. The metal is cool against your skin and smooth- not like the rough shackles the shifter had bound you with. Gingerly, you run your fingers along the edges, over the sigils engraved in the silver that would stop any demon from breaking free. You imagine what it would feel like, to be held captive in here, a willing participant in a game you aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to play.

You set the cuffs down and walk away, forgetting the door as you leave the room. It’s not as if your sex life with Dean is unsatisfying. You just yearn for that feeling… the loss of control, the thrill of danger, and those _marks_.

It was fine, really. You could live without it. But after the other night, you just wished you could experience it, just once, in a way that was safe and consented to. In a way you could enjoy it. That shifter- that monster- had taken your deepest fantasy and turned it into a nightmare. Into something to be feared and painful. But he couldn’t have it. You weren’t going to let him linger in your mind and on your skin. You were going to take back your desires so that you owned them again. They were yours to enjoy, not his to hurt you with.

* * *

 

“She’s not okay, man,” Dean tells Sam as they drive, “She pretends, she puts on a show, but she’s not okay.”

“I know,” Sam says.

“I can’t… I can’t make it okay. I can’t give her what she needs,” he mumbles under his breath, not looking at his brother.

“Dean-”

“But you can.”

“Dean!”

“No, don’t argue with me, Sam. I know you want her. I’m not angry,” he says, “I can’t do this for her, but you can. I mean, I don’t wanna hear the details or anything- but if it’s you… I’ll be okay. I trust you with her, I know you love her, I know you’ll take good care of her. Come on, man, just do me this solid, okay? If not for me, then for her.”

Sam is silent for a minute, “… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. For Y/N, and for you, Dean,” he says.

“Alright, alright- no chick flick moments, okay? I mean, I’m asking you to fuck my girlfriend- this isn’t exactly a Notebook worthy moment,” he complains.

Sam chuckles, “Alright.”

* * *

 

You’ve been crying, and they can tell when they walk in. You didn’t even hear them get home, but here they are in front of you now where you’re seated against the wall, crying into a bottle of whiskey.

“Y/N?” Sam asks softly, sinking to his knees beside you, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, sniffling and swiping your tears away, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You get to your feet, legs a little wobbly from both drinking and sitting on the floor a little too long, “How did the hunt go?”

“Piece of cake,” Dean says, grabbing your arm to steady you, “Just like you said, baby.”

“You shoulda listened to me,” you slur, leaning against his shoulder and turning your head to place a sloppy kiss there.

“I know, baby,” he says gently, “How ‘bout we go to bed now? I’m beat, and I could sure use you lying next to me.”

You chuckle and pat his face, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

His face turns slightly red and he looks defensively at his brother before he decides against arguing, “You know me, baby.”

“So, little spoon then,” you say quietly, allowing him to guide you down the hall to his bedroom, shooting a parting smile Sam’s way.

He gets you undressed and tucked into bed with only a little difficulty. Your giggling and squirming and trying to pull him into kisses doesn’t exactly make the job easier. You sigh contentedly when you’re finally in bed and wrapped around his huge, warm body.

“You’re so good to me, Dean,” you sigh, pressing kisses to his back and shoulders where your face is.

“You deserve it, baby,” he whispers, “You deserve everything.”

“No, I don’t,” you start to cry again, “I don’t deserve you. You’re so wonderful. You’re so good to me, and I-”

He turns in your arms until he’s facing you, a look of concern in his eyes. One big hand comes up to caress your face and he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. “Don’t say that, Y/N. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispers.

You laugh drunkenly, “That’s not saying much.”

He chuckles slightly, “No, I guess not. But you’re wonderful, baby, I promise.”

“Ssh…” you press a finger to his lips, “No chick flick moments.”

He rolls his eyes and smiles, “Alright. But I mean it, Y/N, you deserve this, okay?”

“Okay,” you finally concede, going silent for a while until Dean thinks that maybe you’ve fallen asleep.

“Dean…” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a dungeon?” you ask.

He laughs, “You went exploring today? I don’t know, babe, it’s not something that comes up in regular conversation.”

“It’s hot,” you whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs gently, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask, eyes slipping closed involuntarily.

“I’m sorry I’m not enough for you,” you hear him whisper, “I wish I could give you everything, but I can’t. But it will be okay, baby. We’ll make it okay for you.”

You aren’t sure what he’s talking about, but you’re too drunk and sleepy to fully comprehend, or to press him further.

“You’re more than enough, Dean,” you mumble, falling asleep, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he kisses the top of your head as you fall asleep against his chest, “More than you know.”


	3. Only Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam makes all of your fantasies come true, and it's exactly what you needed- but it's not enough. It's not right. Sam is wonderful and you love the way he makes you feel, but there's something, or rather someone, missing.

When you wake up, you’re alone. There are no covers on the bed, and you’re slightly less clothed than you remember being when you fell asleep, but to be fair you don’t remember much after the boys getting home. You start to sit up, only to find yourself restrained- wrists tied to the headboard with one of your scarves.

“Dean?” you call out, a little warily.

“Oh, you’re awake,” you hear from the door, but it’s not Dean speaking and you lift your head to see Sam entering the room, closing the door behind him.

“What… what’s going on?” you ask a little breathlessly, thinking you must still be dreaming, “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m going to give you what you want, Y/N,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at you, “If you’ll let me.”

“What about Dean?” you whisper, afraid to say yes but definitely not wanting to say no.

“It was Dean’s idea, Y/N,” he murmurs, letting his fingers trail softly over your skin before he meets your eyes and smiles, “It’s okay. He wants you to be happy… and I want this too, Y/N.”

You swallow hard, eyes raking over Sam’s shirtless body as you take in your situation. On the one hand, this is everything you’ve ever wanted. On the other, if Dean felt desperate enough to ask Sam for this… he must feel awful right now. How can you do this, knowing how it makes Dean feel? How can you go through with it and let Dean think he’s not good enough for you?

“Just say no, and I’m gone, Y/N,” Sam says quietly, seemingly reading your thoughts, “But Dean is okay with this, really. And I know you don’t want to say no.” His fingers trail lightly down your thigh to the inner bend in your knee before turning and going slowly back up, “What do you say, Y/N?” he asks thickly, eyes darkening with lust, “Can I leave marks on this pretty skin?”

Your eyes widen in anticipation, and you let out a small moan.

“Is that a yes, Y/N?” he asks, pleadingly.

“Yes,” you whisper, “God, yes, Sam.”

He grins and grabs your thigh roughly, fingers digging hard into the flesh to leave fingerprint shaped bruises. He yanks your thigh back so you bend your knee and spread your legs for him. You cry out at the pain of his fingers on your skin, but you love every second of it. Your heart beat quickens at the thought of Sam’s fingers being imprinted on your skin.

“Sam,” you groan, looking up at him excitedly.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses a trail up your inner thigh, “Too bad my brother got to you first. Always thought about this. What it would be like- to touch you, taste you,” he licks one long stripe up your slit and you shudder, biting back a moan, “to fuck you, mark you up, make you mine.” He kisses up your torso, sinking teeth into your flesh over all of your sensitive spots before getting to your mouth and capturing it roughly with his own. He bites down hard on your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and smoothing the nip with his tongue.

He backs away from you and you stare up at him with lust blown eyes, panting, “Why are we in here? Why can’t we use the dungeon?” you ask.

“We’re gonna take it slow, Y/N,” he says, “Just this for now, okay? We don’t wanna push too hard- after what happened.”

You swallow and bite your lip, disappointed but understanding, “Okay.”

His fingers trace lightly over the bite marks he’s left on your body, eyes trained on what he’s doing, his breath caught in his throat, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers. Suddenly, his hand leaves your body and is brought back down sharply on your thigh, turning your skin red momentarily and making you gasp.

“Can you turn around for me?” he asks, standing up, “Turn around and get up on your knees.”

You let out a quiet moan and spin yourself around, grasping the headboard with your bound hands, and getting up onto your knees, bending slightly forward.

“Spread your legs further,” he orders, knocking at your knees and forcing your legs apart.

“Sam,” you gasp, begging him to touch you, to fuck you, to do **anything**.

“Keep quiet,” he whispers in your ear, “Or I’ll have to gag you.” His hand comes down hard on your ass without warning and you let out a small moan in surprise. “Y/N,” he says darkly, warning you.

“Sorry,” you breathe.

He strikes you again, and you bite your lip, holding in your noises.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy in his throat. He hits you again, and you shudder, but don’t make a sound, pushing your ass up to meet his hand. “You look so good like this, Y/N,” he purrs, smacking you again and again in a slow, steady rhythm, “So good for me.”

Suddenly, the strike is harder, and you forget yourself and cry out loudly.

“Y/N,” he says quietly, ceasing the spanking and coming over to your head with another one of your scarves, “I’m disappointed in you. You were being such a good girl,” he fastens the scarf around your head and you open your mouth to let him shove the cloth in as he ties it tight behind your head, “Now I can’t let you have my cock like I wanted to.”

You whine, trying to turn to look at him behind you, but he hits you again when you try, “Maybe if you’re a really, _really_ good girl, I’ll let you have it. I’ll fuck you good and hard just like you want. Would you like that, baby girl?” he asks, taking your jaw roughly in one hand and yanking your face to look at him.

You nod vigorously, unable to voice your desire through the gag.

His hand caresses the bruised flesh of your ass gently, “Do you want me to stop this? If it’s too much, I can move to somewhere else.”

You shake your head and whine, pushing your ass back into his hands.

He chuckles, “Okay. You’re so eager, baby girl. Such a good girl for me. You like it when I punish you?” he asks, continuing the spanking from where he left off, striking harder and faster than before. You nod vigorously and bite back your moans, desperate for his praise.

“So pretty, baby girl, so good,” he murmurs as he hits you. Then, all at once, he lets up on your sore, red ass and stops. He leans down and licks another long stripe up your slit, making your legs shake and you whine. “This is making you so wet, Y/N,” he moans, kissing and nipping at your thighs, over your ass and up your back to your shoulders. He bites you once hard on the neck and then he’s gone. You cry out under the gag in distress when he disappears and try to look around for him.

“I have something new for you, Y/N,” he whispers, suddenly at your ear and kissing you very gently. He holds up a tiny bullet vibe and your breath catches in your throat. He turns it on to the lowest setting and presses it gently against your clit, making you shudder.

“Don’t come yet, baby girl,” he whispers, caressing your back gently with his free hand, rubbing gentle circles there, “If you don’t come until I say, I’ll let you have my cock.”

You bite back a whine and rock your hips a little against his fingers. It seems like forever that he sits there, the vibrator pressed against your clit making very gentle vibrations and causing a pleasurable tingling sensation to spread throughout your core, his hand rubbing gentle, soothing circles on your lower back as you bite your lip and try not to come. After a while, you get used to the vibrations, and feel more under control.

Then, he turns it up to the next highest setting, causing you to moan quietly and buck your hips against it. He smacks your ass again at the same time and shushes you, “Ssh, baby, not yet.”

You shake and shudder as the vibe works against your clit, Sam’s hand having moved down to your thighs were he lands slightly gentler blows and scratches his blunt nails over the marks he leaves. You take deep breaths to keep your focus, stop your shaking, and stave off your orgasm, trying to focus on the pain instead of the pleasure as Sam marks you up.

Finally, he turns the vibe up to its highest setting, pushing it more firmly against your clit as he pushes two fingers very slowly into you. You moan loudly, despite the gag, and push your hips back, riding his fingers.

“Okay, Y/N,” he says huskily in your ear, “Come for me, baby girl.”

You obey, moaning loudly against the gag and shuddering around his fingers, riding out your orgasm on his hand.

He moans and positions himself behind you, losing his jeans, “God, Y/N. You were such a good girl. I think you’ve earned this. I’m gonna fuck you so good and hard, baby girl. I can’t wait to be inside you.” You push your hips back against his, silently begging him to sink inside you and fuck you hard. “Do you want that, baby girl? Do you want it hard and rough?” he asks.

You moan and nod frantically.

He pulls the gag out of your mouth, “Not good enough. Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

“Want you, Sam!” you moan when you can speak again, “Want your cock! Want you to fuck me so hard! Sam, please! Please fuck me, I’ve been so good, Sam, please!”

“Fuck,” he curses, grabbing your hips roughly and shoving inside you hard, setting a hard and brutal pace right from the get go, “You’ve got a dirty little mouth, Y/N. Maybe next time I’ll fuck your mouth,” he pants as he slams into you relentlessly, “I’ll come on that filthy tongue of yours and make you swallow every last drop.”

You moan loudly at the thought.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuck, I can’t- I’m gonna come,” Sam gasps, hips stuttering in their rhythm and fingers digging harder into your hips.

“Please!” you cry out.

He moans loudly and stills, shaking as he comes deep inside you, and slumps over your body, leaving soft kisses on the marks over your neck and shoulders.

“Y/N… that… that was-” he says after you’ve both caught your breath and he’s pulled out, untying your hands before falling back on the bed and holding you close to him.

“That was _perfect_ , Sam,” you whisper.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his brow furrowing in worry, “I wasn’t too rough?”

You laugh and shake your head, “God no, in fact, next time- be rougher.”

He chuckles and rubs one hand gently over your ass to soothe it, “Okay, I can do that. Though, after Dean sees what I’ve done to you, I’m not sure there’ll be a next time.”

“You said he was okay with this,” you whisper.

“Y/N, you’re covered in bruises,” he says, “Even if he knew what he was saying yes to- I don’t think he fully realized what was gonna happen. I’m gonna be in serious trouble.”

You shake your head, “No, Sam, it’ll be fine. I’ll explain. This is what I **wanted**.”

“I know,” he says, “Y/N, that was great. That was…”

You lean over and softly kiss his cheek, “That was exactly what I needed, Sam. Thank you.”

He smiles and a soft blush creeps up his neck and cheeks, “You’re welcome,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes.

“I’m gonna go… take a shower,” you say, gesturing to your tired, sweaty body.

Under the spray of the lukewarm water (since hot had stung far too much to be relaxing), you thought about how you were going to talk to Dean about this. You were so grateful to both of them for giving you this experience, but you didn’t want it- you didn’t want anything- if it was going to make Dean uncomfortable. You love him. And he is enough, he is more than enough, he is far greater than you could ever deserve. He doesn’t realize just how great he is, how impressive, how important. You would do anything for him, and giving this up- that was no contest. He wins out over every desire, every need you could ever have.

You run your fingers over the bruises on your hips and sigh contentedly at the way they ache, pressing you fingers into them a little bit. Sam’s fingerprints, painted on your skin in dark purple marks. Sam’s large red handprints quickly fading on your ass and thighs. It was nice, and Sam felt good, and loving, and safe. But he wasn’t Dean. And as much as you loved Sam and had fantasized about him- you weren’t his. And these marks couldn’t claim you in the way you wanted. Only his brother could claim you, mark you up, and make you his. Only Dean could take care of you the way you want. Only Dean could love you like you want to be loved. Only Dean.

* * *

 

When you get out of the shower, you dress as modestly as you possibly can, trying to cover every bruise. You can’t get your tight jeans on without mild pain and discomfort, so you opt for yoga pants instead. You pull one of Dean’s large flannels on over your tank top to hide the bruises and bite marks on your torso, buttoning it up to the top. Not much can be done for Sam’s love bites on your neck, but you apply a thin coating of cover up to lighten the bruises and make them less noticeable. Maybe Dean won’t get _too_ angry. Honestly, Sam had been too gentle in your opinion, but you know Dean won’t see it that way.

“Good morning,” he greets you gruffly when you enter the kitchen. Sam is nowhere to be seen and Dean is sitting at the table, bent over a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“Anything interesting?” you ask, nodding at the newspaper.

He shakes his head, “Nothing. Looks like we’ve got the day off.”

You chuckle, “Well, that never happens!” You lean casually against the counter and sip your coffee, not wanting to sit at the table because of the pain but hoping Dean won’t notice and comment.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks quietly after a long, slightly awkward silence.

You shrug, “I don’t know, I thought he was out here.”

“Y/N…” he says seriously, standing up and walking over to you so that he’s inches in front of your face, but not touching you.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Dean,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

He runs his fingers lightly through the make up on your neck, “Yes, we do.” He begins to slowly unbutton the flannel, peeling it away from your skin until it’s off, his eyes tracing your torso and the few bites and bruises that are visible above your tank top.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks in a low whisper.

You shake your head, “No. No, Dean, it was…” you trail off, not wanting to tell him just how much you’d enjoyed yourself.

“Good,” he says, sighing and turning away from you.

You catch his arm before he can leave you, pulling him gently back toward you into an embrace, your hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders as his arms wrap around you and his eyes meet yours hesitantly. You lean in for long, slow kiss, which he groans under quietly, and you can feel the hurt and neediness in his lips and tongue.

“Y/N,” he says in a broken whisper when you break away from him, looking at him lovingly.

“Thank you, Dean,” you say sincerely, “You didn’t have to do that for me, but I’m grateful that you did. I love you so much, Dean. You’re everything to me.”

He sighs, “I couldn’t… Y/N, I can’t trust myself with that kind of control. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t trust myself not to hurt you.”

“I know,” you kiss his lips again gently, “It’s okay, Dean.”

He hesitates for a second, “Was Sam… I mean… was he-”

“I don’t want to talk about how your brother is in bed, Dean,” you shake your head, “I promise you, baby, you’re still the best I’ve ever had and ever will have.”

He smiles a little cockily and you know he’s covering up his insecurities, “Well, yeah, I wasn’t worried about that, baby.”

You smile, “Okay,” you sigh, “Really, Dean, thank you. I needed that. I wish it could have been you, but I understand why you can’t and I would never push you.” You lean up to kiss his neck and ear, and smile before whispering, “Although… next time, you could watch.”

His breath catches in his throat, “Watch?” he asks shakily.

“Could you?” you ask, looking up at him hopefully, “I would like that. It would be so hot, Dean. To see your face…”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he says gruffly, “I honestly don’t know if I could handle seeing you like that… and he’s my brother, I-”

You kiss him quickly, dropping it, “I understand. It’s okay, Dean.”

You’re interrupted when Sam finally walks into the room, shooting a wary glance at his brother before saying good morning and coming into the kitchen to make breakfast. The topic is dropped and the three of you go about your day with only slight awkwardness between you. Dean decides to use the time off to work on his car, and he disappears to the garage before long. Sam busies himself with research and leaves you alone to do as you please.

You go out to get groceries, clean your guns, organize and reorganize your pack, and even go out to watch Dean work on Baby for a while, bringing him a beer. The day is slow and lazy, and you’re striving to find things to fill your time.

Finally, you give up and turn on the TV, and are oddly relieved at the murder story on the news that definitely sounds like a case. Four bodies were found in an abandoned warehouse in Iowa, all missing their hearts.

“Sam! Dean!” you call, “Come on, pack up, we got werewolves!”

* * *

 

With the obligation of a case hanging over you, all awkwardness disappeared. The three of you were just a team again, working together to identify the wolf so you could kill it and head back home. Honestly, you were so relieved, and even a little thrilled, at being on a case again. You loaded your guns with silver bullets in the backseat while Dean drove and Sam dug into the background of the vics.

You’re turned slightly sideways in your seat, lying on your hip so you don’t have to sit on your sore ass. It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore, but it’s still a little raw and you don’t want to sit on it. Maybe next time you’d tell Sam to take it easy on your ass and focus more on other parts of your body.

“Anything interesting?” Dean asks Sam, glancing at him for a moment before shooting a look back at you to check on you. He thinks you don’t notice that he glances at you protectively every now and then, but you do.

“Nothing. No pattern,” Sam says, “We’ll dig up more when we interview the families. Find out where they all were when they disappeared. Hopefully someone will know something that will lead us to our werewolf.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead and handle the FBI thing,” you say, dropping another fully loaded gun and picking up another to load, “I just wanna kill the fucker.”

“Y/N-”

“You said this one was all mine, Dean,” you remind him firmly before he can say anything, “You two find the thing, but then _I’m_ unloading my clip into its heart.” Sam and Dean share a look and you sigh, irritated at their silent communication, “What?” you all but growl, “What’s wrong now?”

“Well, first of all, don’t you think you’re being a little aggressive?” Dean asks, “Y/N, the shifter is dead. I killed it. Killing this werewolf, while it may make you feel better, it’s not going to change what happened to you.”

“You’re one to talk!” you protest.

“I know,” Dean says, “And hey, I say do what you gotta do, the mutt needs to die either way, but babe, your head’s not in the right place. I don’t need you going in hot and getting yourself killed.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you argue, “I’m fully prepared. And I won’t go in without you. All I ask is when it comes to the kill shot- you let me take it.”

“Fine,” he says, “but-”

“But what?” you snap angrily.

“Y/N, can you even move fast enough?” Sam asks quietly, “I mean… what I did to you this morning… Y/N, you can’t even sit properly.”

You tense up, not wanting to have this conversation in front of Dean, “Well, then I won’t do any sitting,” you spit, “I’m fine, Sam. I’m a little sore but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m not saying you can’t-” he starts.

“Good. Then this conversation is over,” you say, “Now, are we gonna hunt? Or are we gonna **talk** about it?”


	4. Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the hunt and a heated argument with Dean, he decides he wants to see the full damage that his brother did to you that morning- which prompts him to change his mind about wanting to watch.

You’re livid. Absolutely furious.

You’d had a clear shot, you were all set up for it, but Dean had **had** to come in and ruin it for you. On top of it all, in the hypocritical move of the century, he’d come in hot and worried about you, and almost gotten himself seriously hurt.

There were three of them. They were teenagers, and they were squatting in the warehouse where the bodies had been found. Just a bunch of stupid, stoner kids who’d somehow gotten themselves bitten and thought they were the big bad wolf. Case in point- they’d gone right back to the scene. They weren’t _completely_ stupid though, and didn’t stay together very long so they were harder to track. You’d used yourself as bait. It wasn’t rocket science- you were the least threatening looking of the three of you and you could easily get yourself “invited” back to their pad. You knew what would come next, but you were ready.

Dean was not.

Once he’d heard that you went ahead without his “permission” and used yourself as bait, he basically threw your whole carefully constructed plan out the window and barged in firing. But, of course, he couldn’t aim at three at once, and once they realized what was happening, they attacked. Dean shot one head on and he dropped, immediately dead. You got one in the head as he was closing in on Dean from your side, but the last managed to get the jump on Dean from behind. She got him to the ground and almost had her teeth around his throat, her nails sinking into his chest around his heart, before you blew her away.

“What the fuck, Dean?” you scream when the threat of danger is no longer present.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Dean yells, getting to his feet, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“What was **I** thinking? Dean, I had this handled! You completely screwed this up!” you were so angry you were close to tears but you were _not_ going to let him see you cry and think he won this fight, “You promised me this was going to be my kill!”

“And you killed 2 out of 3, congrats. What do you want, a ribbon?” he bit out, “You could’ve gotten hurt, Y/N!”

“You almost did!” you point out, “And that was entirely your fault! I was doing just fine before you barged in here, open fire! God, Dean, for once I’d like you to just believe in me!”

His face falls, “I do believe in you, Y/N. But you didn’t even tell us what you were doing! You said you wouldn’t go in without me.”

“Yeah, well, things change!”

“I guess they do,” he says quietly, jaw clenched in anger, dropping the topic as Sam hurries into the warehouse.

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” Sam asks.

“We’re fine,” you say, “No thanks to Dean.”

“You know **what** , Y/N-”

“What?” you shout, “What could you possibly have to say to me right now? You _ruined_ my hunt. Next time I’ll just go without you! Is that what you want? Because I certainly don’t feel like a part of the team, Dean, I feel like a child!”

It’s quiet, and tense. None of you say a word. Dean’s fists curl and uncurl as he tries to think of what to say. Sam looks unsure as to whether he should get in the middle of it, and you’re honestly just so angry that you have nothing else to say.

“I’ll be in the car,” you whisper angrily, not looking at either of them as you storm out to the Impala.

When the boys come out to the Impala, Dean still looks angry but he’s slightly more relaxed. You silently wonder what Sam said to him… how he could calm his brother down so easily. You don’t say anything as they climb into the car and Dean turns on the music as he drives.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean says after a while, so quietly you almost don’t hear it over the music.

“What?” you ask, shocked.

“I do believe in you, I know what you can do. You’re fully capable, and I know that,” he says, “But I’m not gonna apologize for worrying about you. Of course I worry about you, I _love_ you. That’s what a family does, Y/N, they worry about each other. I’m sure Sam worries about you, too. And I worry about Sam. All the damn time. Hell, that’s the reason we’ve died for each other so many times, Y/N, we look out for each other. I’m just looking out for you too, now. So, I’m sorry I messed up your shot, and I’m sorry you feel like a child, or like we don’t appreciate you, ‘cause baby we are so grateful you’re here, I swear. You’re a damn good hunter, and I know you could’ve taken on these Teen Wolf wannabes solo, but I wish you would’ve just told us what you were up to- just in case things with south. I worry about _because_ I love you, Y/N, and I love you because you **are** strong enough, and smart enough, and quick enough, and brave enough to outhunt both of us. Just… keep us in the loop, okay, babe? Then maybe I’ll worry a little less.”

You smile a little at his apology, “Okay…” you agree, “You won’t though. You’ll worry just the same amount.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, glancing back at you, “So, did they hurt you? How many of those bruises are from the job and how many are from Sam?”

Sam blushes, looking uncomfortable and you glance down at yourself, “I got a few from the job,” you admit, “But mostly Sam.”

“Well, good,” he says, not looking at his brother as he drops the conversation and looks at the road again.

“Dean… if you’re uncomfortable with me doing things with Sam, I’ll-” you start quietly.

“No,” he interrupts, “It’s fine. I’m fine with it.”

“Are you sure, man?” Sam asks, “I thought you’d be pissed, to be honest.”

“Why would I be pissed? I asked you to do it in the first place!” Dean argues, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“He hasn’t seen all the marks, has he?” Sam asks you quietly.

You shake your head.

Dean huffs in irritation and pulls over, getting out of the car and coming around to open your door and crawl in beside you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I want to see,” he demands, starting to pull off your shirt.

“Dean, we’re in public!” you protest, trying to cover the worst of the bruises and bites on your torso with your arms.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s pitch black out, and we’re in the car. We’ve had sex in more public places than this. Show me, Y/N,” he wasn’t asking. Slowly, you peel the rest of your clothes off until you’re lying naked in the backseat, two pairs of eyes on you. You shudder slightly under the heat of their gaze, excited by the attention as Dean studies you, searching for every mark on your body, and Sam’s gaze darkens as he takes in the sight of you covered in his marks.

Dean reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your thigh, “Does it hurt?” he breathes.

“A little,” you admit.

“Turn around,” he orders.

“Dean,” you breathe, swallowing thickly.

“Turn around,” he repeats louder.

You let out a sigh and oblige him, turning onto your stomach on the seat, letting them take in your reddened ass, the scratches on your thighs, and Sam’s love bites trailing up your back and shoulders.

Dean chuckles darkly, “ _Wow_ , Sam.”

“I… yeah,” Sam whispers, unable to defend himself.

Dean cups your ass and you gasp at the unexpected touch.

“Did you enjoy it, sweetheart?” he asks huskily in your ear. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. “Did you make pretty noises for him? Did you beg for Sam to fuck you?” he whispers, fingers running gently over your ass and back, circling every mark.

You moan, burying your face in the seat.

“Y/N,” Dean says, “I asked you a question.”

You moan again, “Yes.”

The car is silent aside from the music and the three sets of heavy breaths as Dean runs his fingers lightly over every mark on your body.

“I changed my mind,” he says suddenly, and you turn and sit up, frowning at him and seeing Sam’s face fall in disappointment as well.

“What?” he asks.

“I change my mind. I wanna watch,” Dean clarifies, not looking at his brother, his eyes locked with yours.

“Are you serious?” you ask, trying not to smile at the thought.

He nods, “I’m serious. I’m curious. I want to watch.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, smiling wide, feeling yourself growing wetter at the thought.

Sam laughs, “I think she accepts your apology.”

Dean smiles, “Let’s get you home, baby.”

* * *

 

It’s almost three weeks later before all the bruises have healed. The three of you haven’t talked about it again, and Sam, though slightly more physically affectionate toward you than usual, hasn’t been very different around you at all. No one has brought up your arrangement, or the inclusion of Dean next time.

Dean has been trying to be slightly more dominant in the bedroom. Not that he wasn’t dominant sometimes before, he just couldn’t hurt you- and he still wouldn’t- but he was trying to be a little rougher, anyway.

You’d begged Sam for it only twice since the night in the car, and both times he’d shut you down, saying you weren’t healed yet and he wasn’t going to do anything again until there wasn’t a single bruise on your body. You got pretty beat up hunting djinn in Minnesota last week, and even though you’d profusely protested and pointed out that those bruises shouldn’t count, Sam insisted.

Now, you stand in front of the mirror, droplets of water from the shower still clinging to your skin, and smile wide as you inspect every inch of your flawless skin. Not a single mark to be found. You hear Dean chuckle and you spin around to smile at him. “Finally all healed up?” he asks, kissing you on the forehead and wrapping his arms around your naked body.

“Yup! I’m gonna go show Sam,” you start to pull away from him but he catches your wrist and pulls you to him, kissing you roughly.

You melt into the kiss, sighing against his lips and burying your hands in his hair, “What was that for?”

“I love you, Y/N,” he says seriously.

“I love you, too,” you tell him, “Is everything okay?”

He nods, “Everything is perfect. For once.”

You smile and gently caress his face, stubble scratching at the palm of your hand, “Are you ready for this?”

He nods against your hand, eyes falling closed and he turns his head to gently kiss your hand, “Yeah, baby, I’m good. I want to see what it is I agreed to. Seeing all those marks on your skin… it honestly scares me, baby, but seeing how happy it makes you, I…” he trails off, “And Sam clearly likes it.”

You shrug, “You don’t have to watch if you-”

He shakes his head, “No, I want to. I used to be into stuff like that, you know. Not quite as hardcore as you are, I guess, but I get it. I get wanting to lose control. And I get Sam’s side of it, too. It’s hot, I’m not gonna argue with you there. It’s just… ever since what I did in Hell… I don’t… I can’t-”

“I know, Dean, you don’t have to explain again, it’s okay,” you kiss him softly, “You tried. And I love you. I love you so much. You don’t even know what this means to me.”

He laughs, “No, I don’t. But if you’re happy, I’m happy, baby. Besides… seeing you get off, **that’s** my kink,” he winks, then leans in close to whisper, “I hope Sam makes you beg.”

You shudder and he chuckles as he releases you. You bound off, down the hall to Sam’s room only to find it empty. You frown and walk around the bunker, buck naked, looking for him.

“Sam?” you call, finding him in the library.

He raises an eyebrow when you walk in naked, “Did you forget something, Y/N?” he laughs, gesturing to your body.

“No,” you grin mischievously, “Clothes would only get in the way.” You wink and stalk over to him, moving the book he’s holding and sliding into his lap.

He keeps up the confused facade but you can see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “In the way of what, Y/N?”

“Look at me, Sam,” you whisper, running your fingers softly over his jaw, turning his head, “No marks.”

Dean appears in the doorway and Sam shoots him a smirk before he leans in close to your ear and whispers just loud enough for Dean to hear, “Do you think you’ve been a good girl, Y/N? Do you think you deserve it?”

You smile and your toes curl in anticipation. You wiggle a little in his lap, “Yes, Sam, yes, I’ve been _so_ good. I waited three whole weeks. Please, Sammy.”

He laughs and smiles at you, his eyes not leaving Dean’s as he says, “That’s right, you have been patient. Do you want to show Dean what a good girl you are for me?” You whine and nod, wiggling more in his lap to gain friction against his jean covered thigh. He grabs your hips and holds you still, “Lead the way, Y/N,” he mumbles against your neck, trailing hot kisses down it and to your shoulders, nipping playfully at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You hop up and Sam gives your ass a playful swat as you bound down the hall.

You look excitedly between the boys in the hall, looking to Sam for permission before grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him behind you into the dungeon. He hovers by the entrance when you release him, watching warily while you and Sam set up.

“How do you want it, baby girl?” Sam asks, his lips back on your skin as you look around the room, eyes falling on the chains dangling from the ceiling and curled on the floor.

“Suspend me?” you ask, adding quickly, “Please.”

He smiles, but looks at you with concern, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

You know he’s thinking of how they found you after the shifter’s torture, but you nod, “Yes, Sam, yes, please. That’s what I want.” You want it back. You want it to be yours again. For your pleasure, instead of his.

“Okay,” he mumbles softly against your lips as he presses a few gentle kisses there, “You okay with that, Dean?”

Dean looks surprised at being asked an opinion, “Yeah, I… just do whatever you would do if I wasn’t here.”

Sam gently fastens the smooth silver shackles of the chains around your wrists, and lifts you slowly into the air. The tug at your arms hurts a little, but you’ve got the muscle to hold yourself up from years of hunting. Next he shackles your ankles to the floor, forcing your legs apart. He places a few gentle kisses on your thighs and inner bend of your knees as he fastens the shackles and makes sure they’re tight. Sam stands up, admiring his handiwork, “You look so good like this, Y/N,” he says, “All chained up and wet for me.”

You moan and arch into his hand where his fingers are lightly playing with your clit, but he pulls his hand away and slaps your thigh sharply in response. “Not a sound, Y/N,” he says strictly. You nod your compliance and watch him walk around you, deciding what he wants to do to you first.

“Can I blindfold you?” he asks.

You thrill at the thought, but you’re hesitant, you want to watch Dean’s reactions, and see Sam’s face when he touches you.

“Baby girl?”

“I want to watch Dean,” you tell him.

He chuckles, “What if we start with it on, and I’ll take it off a little later so you can watch Dean when he sees how pretty you are when you come for me?”

You nod, “Okay. Yes, please.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wrapping the blindfold around your eyes and tying it behind your head. You watch as Dean’s face disappears from view and worry your lip a little at the thought that he might be uncomfortable during this and you’d have no way to know. You just have to trust that Sam is gauging his reaction.

You gasp sharply when Sam’s mouth is suddenly crushed against yours, and he bites down hard on your lip, growling, “Don’t bite your lip, Y/N, that’s my job.”

There’s another sharp blow to your thigh, and Sam disappears. You hold your breath, listening for him, toes curling in anticipation of what he might do. Then you gasp again and bite back a moan as he grabs your hips roughly and buries his tongue between your legs. His tongue works fast and hard on your clit with no easing you in, and no rest. He goes to town on you until you’re shaking and biting your lip so hard trying not to moan that you think you’re leaving your own bruises there. His fingers dig into your hips and your hands pull at the chains, desperate to be in his hair.

“Sam!” you finally let yourself cry, bucking into his face.

“Don’t you dare come, Y/N,” he rasps against you, “I never said you could come.”

You whimper and hold back your orgasm to the best of your ability, but with your legs spread wide from the chains and Sam’s tongue relentlessly teasing your clit, it’s hard. There’s nothing there to buffer you from the unending pleasure Sam is giving you. Nothing you can do to stave it off, or hold it back.

“Sam! Sam!” you cry, trying to get him to stop, but he doesn’t let up and you come, shaking, with a loud moan, into his mouth. He laps you up, licking long stripes up your slit and tonguing at your entrance until it’s all gone, then stands, his hands moving up your body so you know where he is.

“You disobeyed me, baby girl,” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, “I couldn’t. It felt so good, Sam. I’m sorry.”

He disappears again and when he comes back, there’s something light and thin and leather trailing over your skin, “Do you want me to use my hand? Or this?” he asks you.

“That,” you answer without hesitation, “Sammy, can you focus on my back and thighs though, please, the backseat of the car is very uncomfortable when my ass is raw and sore.”

He kisses a trail lightly over your shoulder, “Sure. I’ll only use my hand on your ass, okay?”

You nod your agreement and hold back a moan when the leather connects with your thigh. He runs his fingers lightly over the mark he’s left there before striking you again on the opposite thigh. It stings pretty badly, and you shudder under his touch when he moves to caress that mark as well. “Does it hurt?” he asks you.

You nod.

“Maybe if you’re a really good girl and don’t scream, I’ll see if Dean wants to fuck you,” he whispers low in your ear, “You should see his face, baby girl, I think he’s enjoying the show.”

You moan despite yourself, and gasp when he smacks your ass hard with the flat of his hand, “You have to be good, Y/N, or I may just wind you up and leave you here. Do you want that?”

You shake your head. The leather strap, which you’ve figured out is his belt from hearing the buckle jungle in his grasp, hits your thighs a couple more times in rhythmic succession, alternating legs. Your hands twist around the chains and grasp them hard, clenching your fingers around the cool metal to help you hold back your sounds of pain.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam praises, nipping at your neck, “Do you want me to spank you now, or have you had enough?”

You moan quietly and try to push your ass back against him.

“You have to say it, Y/N.”

“Spank me,” you beg, “Please.”

His hand comes down hard on your ass again and you whine, earning a hard bite to the neck, “Quiet, Y/N.”

You bite your lip again and breathe hard through your nose as he spanks you, hand coming down relentlessly against your ass. Suddenly, there’s another set of hands gently gripping your thighs, and a tongue is burying itself between your legs and playing gently with your clit as Sam continues his assault on your ass.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, Sam! Dean!” you cry, pushing your hips forward into Dean’s face and rocking back into Sam’s hand.

Dean chuckles and Sam stops his hand, “What did I say about screaming, baby girl? I think you might _want_ us to leave you here.”

“No, please, no!” you beg, “I’m sorry! It was unexpected! I’ll be good, Sammy, I promise! I’ll be g- Ah! Ah!” You arch your hips into Dean’s face and come hard for the second time.

Dean laughs and stands up, and Sam pulls the blindfold off of your face. Dean’s eyes are dark and lust blown and his lips shine with your juices. He pulls you into a rough kiss so you can taste yourself on his mouth.

“Dean,” you whine, and he nips gently at your lip before pulling back.

“Y/N, baby, you’re so hot. Do you like it when my brother spanks you? Do you wanna be fucked good and hard, baby?” he asks, voice low and broken.

You nod vigorously, and you both look at Sam, who’s watching the scene with a smirk and stroking himself lazily through his boxers.

“Please, Sammy?” you ask.

“I don’t know, baby girl, I don’t think you earned it,” he says, “You disobeyed me. You broke the rules. But… you did take your punishment like such a good girl. Dean just surprised you,” he smirks, “I guess this time it’s okay. Dean didn't know the rules.”

Dean grins and shucks his jeans and boxers away, kissing you passionately and running his hands over your thighs. He looks over your shoulder at his brother, “How do you wanna do this?”

Sam shakes his head, “She’s all yours, Dean.”

You turn your head to look at him, frowning, “What about you?”

He kisses you softly on the cheek, “If you’re still worried about it after you’re good and fucked out, you can suck my cock, baby girl. I did promise you I’d fuck that filthy mouth of yours.”

Dean grasps your hips and pulls them toward his own, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. “Can I take her down?” Dean asks Sam, who is clearly still running the show despite the fact that you’re Dean’s to play with now.

Sam comes over and unshackles your wrists, and you fall a little in Dean’s grasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself up. He leaves your ankles chained, though, and Dean positions you over his hard cock and pulls you down against him, fucking up into you. You moan when he enters you and clutch at his back. He fucks you fast, and as hard as the position allows, hands gripping your hips tightly, eyes never leaving yours. There’s so much in his eyes. Lust, desire, love, caring, excitement, and slight fear, and worry as well as he wonders in the back of his mind if you’re hurt.

“Fuck! Dean! Fuck! Dean! Please!” you scream as he fucks you, your screams muffled by his shoulder where your face is pressed.

“God, fuck, Y/N. Fuck, baby!” he grunts and moans in unison, picking up his pace as he chases his release, “I love you so much, baby, fuck!”

“Dean, please. Dean!” you cry, “Come inside me, baby, please!”

“Fuck, Y/N!” he grunts, fingers clawing your hips so hard they draw blood, and he stills, moaning loudly against your shoulder as he comes.

You cry out, shaking and following suit for the third time tonight, peppering light kisses over his shoulder and neck.

After a minute, he pulls out and sets you down on the floor on your knees, gently bending to give you a soft kiss, “Holy shit, baby.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you pant.

He tugs back on his clothes and kneels beside you, fingers trailing lightly over red welts on your thighs, “Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling contentedly, “I’m _better_ than okay, Dean.”

You get back up onto your hands and knees and crawl and far as the chains allow toward Sam, “Your turn.”

Sam chuckles, getting up and pulling his cock from his open jeans and boxers, “You sure you still want this?”

You nod, reaching toward him.

“I’m not convinced,” he murmurs, smiling down at you, just out of reach, “Beg for it, baby girl.”

“Please, Sammy. Please let me suck your cock. I was such a good girl for you and Dean. Please, Sam, I want it. I want to taste you. I want you to come on my tongue. Sammy, please,” you beg, grabbing his hips and tugging him toward you when he’s finally in reach.

He moans and lets his head fall back as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, “Fuck, Y/N, you have such a dirty mouth!”

You hum your agreement around his length, taking him further in, tongue licking small stripes along the underside and circling the head.

“Oh god, baby girl, you look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock. Does Dean get this all the time? I’m kinda jealous,” he groans, hands tangling in your hair and pushing you slightly further down his length.

You chuckle around him, hearing Dean laugh as well, “Yeah, her mouth is a blessing, Sammy.”

“God, you’re telling me!” Sam moans, “How far can she go?”

“You’re bigger than me, dude,” Dean admits, “You gotta find out.”

You pull slowly off him with a wet popping noise, a trail of saliva connecting your lips with the head of his dick, “I can go as far as you want me, Sammy,” you smirk, “Why don’t you fuck my mouth like you promised?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but says nothing about the sudden power play, “I think I will,” he says, grabbing your head a little more roughly and you take his cock back in your mouth, parting your lips a little wider and relaxing your throat so he can slide his cock in and out of your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, Fuck! Your mouth feels so good,” he groans as he fucks your mouth roughly, but not too fast. You moan around him, reveling in the faces and noises he makes when the vibrations envelope his cock, “God, baby girl, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

You moan louder and longer, flicking your tongue a little against the underside of his cock as he face-fucks you.

“Oh god! Oh god, Y/N!” he moans, stilling and sliding out a little so he can come on your tongue. You swallow it gladly, softly licking at the head of his cock to clean it all up before he releases you.

You sigh in contentment as Dean undoes your ankle shackles and Sam scoops you up in his arms and carries you to Dean’s room, dropping you on the bed. Dean pulls the covers over you and crawls in beside you, running his fingers lightly over your skin soothingly. Sam turns to leave but you grab his wrist, “Stay,” you say, “Please?”

Sam looks at Dean, questioning.

Dean nods, “Yeah, man, come here.”

You scoot closer to Dean so Sam can slide in behind you.

“That was fun,” you breathe, causing both your boys to grin at you.

“Yeah, it was,” Dean admits, “I still think I wanna leave the actual hitting to Sammy, but… I could do that again.”

You laugh, kissing him.

“So you wanna make that like a regular thing?” Sam asks hopefully, worried that Dean will say he can’t do this with you anymore.

Dean nods, “Yeah, why not? She loves it. I love her. I love when she’s happy. It’s a win-win.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I-”

“Don’t overthink it, Sammy,” Dean interrupts, “You think I don’t know you love her? Of course you do, look at her! And of course she loves you right back. Otherwise, why would she let you do that to her? Why would she trust you with that? It’s fine, Sammy, I’m cool with sharing if it’s you. You’re the only one I’d trust with her like that.”

You smile wide at him and kiss him softly, then turn and kiss Sam as well, “Who knows, Dean, maybe you’ll be able to do it, too, one day.”

He shrugs, “Maybe. One thing at a time, baby.”

You nod and yawn. Sam’s arms are wrapped around your waist and your back is pressed against his naked chest in the spooning position. Your arms are tangled with Dean’s, one leg hooked over his hip to hold him close to you.

“I love you,” you breathe sleepily to both of them.

“We love you too, baby,” Dean murmurs as Sam kisses your head, “Go to sleep. We’ll have breakfast waiting for you after your nap.”

You shake your head and hold his hands tighter, “Don’t leave me yet.”

He kisses your shoulder, “Okay.”

The three of you lay in silence, your breaths mingling as you fall asleep. After a few moments, you hear Sam starting to snore.

“Dean?” you whisper.

He opens his eyes and looks at you, “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you.”

“What for, sweetheart?”

“Sam may have left marks physically, but your mark was there long before he ever touched me,” you say, “You mark is on my soul, Dean, I was always meant to wind up here with you.”

He smiles softly and kisses you again, “Go to sleep, baby. I’m gonna make you pancakes.”

“Lots of syrup,” you say sleepily, watching him slide out of bed and go out the door.

You smile and nestle against Sam, falling quickly and contentedly asleep.


End file.
